Worse Than They Think
by SilverWolf7
Summary: A small story that demanded me to write it...several times and always scrapped it.  here is the story that I didn't throw away.  Jarlaxle finds out that Zak has just been sacrificed and grieves.  A few decades later, Jarlaxle returns a favour he feels he


Worse Than They Think  
  
Jarlaxle walked into the Do'Urden household, the muttering of females following him, as he was escorted to the throne room by Vierna and Maya.  
  
He was hoping to catch a glimpse of his friend while here, as of late Zak had been too busy to leave the House complex.  
  
Reaching their destination, the two younger daughters of Matron Malice stepped to their rightful places by their mother's side as he bowed deeply and flamboyantly like always. He cast a quick look around the room, only noticing one other male to be present, Dinin, standing awkwardly off to one side.  
  
"We have need of your band, male. My youngest son has run off and we need him back." Malice barked at him, power in her voice.  
  
"It might help if I knew where he has run off to." Jarlaxle stated, watching as the comment made Briza, the eldest daughter and Priestess of Lloth go for her snake whip.  
  
"Out of the city and into the wilds of the Underdark." Was the reply he had gotten. He raised his eyebrows.  
  
"What makes you think I can find him and why is it important to get him back, he is, after all, only a male."  
  
He knew it wasn't the smartest thing to say in a room full of females, but the Matron Mother seemed to shrug off any wrongs his remark might have implied about her rule.  
  
"Our house has just lost its Weaponsmaster and young Drizzt is to take up the position, either that or he will be sacrificed for his wrongs, just like his father.  
  
At that, Jarlaxle gave a sharp intake of breath, a sound not loud enough to be a gasp. He immediately schooled his features. This news was bad.  
  
"What say you?! There will be ample coin in it for you and your band."  
  
"I will have to ask my band if they would be willing. I will not go about sacrificing them for one child!" He was angry and knew he was in trouble. He closed his eyes and waited for a killing blow. Luckily the comment stunned the females into not knowing what to do.  
  
"I am sorry. I am...just surprised to hear about your Weaponsmaster, he was said to be the best." He stated, thankfully seeing the harsh glow of the faces in front of him become less...red with anger.  
  
"Of course. You are dismissed. Talk to your band. I will be waiting."  
  
With that, he politely bowed like any obedient male and walked out as fast as possible without running. Two members of bis band that had come with him meeting him just outside the complex.  
  
He needed to think for a minute to try and sort out the whirlwind of emotions he was feeling. He needed to think upon what he had just found out about Zaknafein...with the sudden rise of the alien feelings inside him he also realised that he desperately needed to let them out.  
  
Being in the middle of the streets was not such a good idea, so he and the two other males headed for a more secret route to the base the mercenary band was using that week.  
  
As soon as they reached the base he left his band alone and made for his private rooms.  
  
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"Did Jarlaxle seem...odd to you?" Asked Tebryn, the youngest of the two.  
  
Malzorn just shrugged and nodded. "He was quiet...."  
  
That statement worried them. Jarlaxle loved to talk, to play with words and see how far he could go with manipulating or insulting all the female drow he can. On the way back, he would usually have talked about what went on inside and usually added in overdone gestures along with them.  
  
Both moved to where the leader of their band slept and gently knocked on the door. They tried for five minutes without success and decided to give up.  
  
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The first thing he did was collapse onto his bed, somehow tired from trying to hide what he was feeling. This just made one emotion in him rise to the surface...his anger at Malice.  
  
A knock was heard on the door, but he ignored it, knowing he wouldn't be able to stop himself from beating whoever was there to a bloody pulp. The anger inside rose for what seemed like forever with every knock. In fact, it was only the longest five minutes of his life.  
  
The knocking stopped, but still the anger rose. He had always been able to control his emotions, but this was too much.  
  
He reached the breaking point not long after. With a roar born of hate toward the House who had dared do this to him, he released the anger on his furniture.  
  
By the time he had calmed down a bit, breathing hard from the exertion used, his hands were broken, cut and very bloody. That pain didn't register in his mind though. Now the anger was gone, he felt incredibly alone, abandoned by the only one he had ever dared to name friend, he felt like his heart was being clenched in some angry female's grip. He found breathing hard, like his lungs were in the same deadly grip.  
  
He fell to his knees, thinking of how he was glad he had the floor carpeted. He laughed at that, but choked it through the lump in his throat.  
  
"Zak, what have you done?" He whispered, burying his head in his hands at just naming his best friend. An age seemed to pass, but he managed to swallow his feelings enough to get to his feet and make it back to his bed.  
  
He broke down then, head buried into the pillow to try and dull the sounds of the sobs that seemed to tear themselves out of his body. Tears streamed down his face and he didn't bother to try and stop them. He knew it would be pointless to try.  
  
Never in all the 460 years of life he had experienced, 440 of them years in friendship with Zaknafein, had he ever heard of a drow grieving. He knew that he was going through the emotion now though...and he hated it!  
  
After a while the tears stopped and he managed to fall into an exhausted sleep.  
  
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Tebryn wandered to his bed in the barracks that some of the male fighters slept in. He was unsure of what to do. Malzorn followed soon after, flopping down on the bed next to the younger male.  
  
"Something is wrong, I can sense it." Tebryn stated, rolling onto his back and laying his head on his hands. The young male, barely in his 30's and still very much a child always had a sense of the others around him.  
  
"Probable." Melzorn mumbled, tired after the sparring they had just done to try and fix a little problem that Tebryn had with blocking powerful blows with his two long swords. The two males had formed a friendship of sorts.  
  
"I think we should check on him." Tebryn said, sitting up on the bed and sighing. He reached into his boot and pulled out the hidden dagger there. It was starting to dig into his ankle.  
  
Growling slightly, Malzorn rolled over and closed his eyes, stating clearly that he would not be going.  
  
Tebryn shrugged, got off his bed and made his way back to their leaders' room. All was silent, but that would be more the silencing spell that was around the room.  
  
Knocking on the door, but receiving no answer, he braced himself before reaching for the door handle. When he wasn't hit by a lightning bolt, he sighed in relief and twisted the handle, confused when the door opened. The mercenary leader never left his room unlocked.  
  
Quickly stepping inside, he sucked in a breath when he saw the state of the room. Everything was in shambles, broken pieces of furniture, jewels scattered with jewelry around the room.  
  
Tebryn made his way to the bed when he noticed the unmoving Jarlaxle lying on it. Slowly he walked over to the usually so flamboyant drow and watched for breathing. The gentle rise and fall of his chest made him sigh...he was ok. But that didn't explain the state of the room.  
  
Also, by now the other drow would be at his throat for sneaking into his room. Unless someone had disabled the traps, picked the complicated lock and drugged the mercenary...but again that didn't seem right.  
  
A strange thought entered Tebryn's head then: What if Jarlaxle had done this himself? That though sounded even more wrong than the drug idea, as the mercenary always had complete control over his emotions and hardly ever showed his anger.  
  
It was then he noticed the tear tracks that had dried on the face of his leader. That gave him pause. Apart from newborns, drow didn't cry, not unless they were weaklings and Tebryn knew that was not true of this male.  
  
"Jarlaxle?" Tebryn called out softly, but the mercenary didn't wake at his voice. Softly the young male reached out and shook his leader awake.  
  
"Go away." Was the mumbled response Tebryn got.  
  
"What happened to your room?" He couldn't help but ask.  
  
A snort was heard from the bald head now buried in a pillow. "What does it look like?!"  
  
"Like someone went crazy..."  
  
A small laugh was heard. "Someone did." A choked sound followed. Tebryn got up from his place on the floor, went to the door, closed and locked it, before going back to the bed.  
  
"What's wrong?" Tebryn asked.  
  
"What did he do? The stupid idiot! What did he do?" Jarlaxle asked, burying his head further in the pillow as he tried to control another onslaught of tears.  
  
"Who?" Tebryn asked, curiosity peaked.  
  
"Zak!" The mercenary shouted, before he realised what he had said and groaned stupidly. "Oh gods, what did he do?" He then lost control of the tears he was trying to keep back.  
  
Tebryn was suddenly aware of what was wrong. The drow who had taken him in after his House was destroyed was grieving. Every one of the males in Bregan D'aerthe knew of the close friendship between the Do'Urden Weaponsmaster and their leader. A friendship practically unheard of in the Underdark.  
  
"They sacrificed him?" Tebryn asked, watching as the words seemed to break his leader.  
  
Without thinking the young male grabbed Jarlaxle and hugged him close. He was expecting a dagger in the back, and was surprised by the mercenary yet again as the touch seemed to be needed.  
  
Arms wrapped around the young male, and soon his shoulder was wet from the constant stream of tears that were soaking into his shirt. Not knowing what to do, Tebryn just held the mercenary in his arms until the tears stopped again.  
  
"Are you feeling better?" The young male asked.  
  
"No." Was the reply he got, before Jarlaxle pushed away the young one holding him. "What are you doing in here, Tebryn?" Came the accusing voice he had been expecting from the first.  
  
"Your door was unlocked...I thought someone had broken in..."  
  
"Someone did!"' Jarlaxle replied, glaring at the youngest male of his band.  
  
"Sorry...you had been acting strangely on the way back here. Melzorn and I were wondering what..."  
  
"Well, now you know. Go away!" Tebryn nodded and began walking towards the door. The grieving drow laughed quietly before the young one disappeared out the door.  
  
"You don't understand...but you will. You are different to the others." Jarlaxle stated, before Tebryn unlocked the door and disappeared again.  
  
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30 years later. (After the War between Mithral Hall and Menzoberranzan.)  
  
Tebryn made his way back to his private room, tired from the scouting mission he had been on for Jarlaxle. Along with a few others, they were the only participants of the war who didn't actually have a fighting role, which the male was extremely grateful for. Now that he had seen the rogue fighting, he realised that Drizzt Do'Urden would never be taken back down to his hometown.  
  
Closing his door, he went to his bed and laid down, almost instantly falling into the dreamless sleep of his people.  
  
He was woken a few hours later by a knock on the door. Getting up, he opened the door and froze. Jarlaxle stood there, his outrageous hat in his hands, with his fingers playing with the feather on top of the thing.  
  
"Are you going to let me in, or are you going to stare at me all day?" Jarlaxle asked, the grin usually on his face fading as the young drow let him in.  
  
"Am I in trouble? I did my job, well I might add." Tebryn stated, after closing the door and locking it behind him.  
  
"No. You're not in trouble and you did do a good job, I must admit." The leader of the mercenary band sat down on a couch pushed against one wall and patted the seat next to him.  
  
Slightly confused, Tebryn took the offered seat. "What is this visit for then?"  
  
"A party of our scouts was seen by a band of crazy dwarves. None survived."  
  
Tebryn smiled. Wasn't that good news?  
  
"None of the drow survived that is." Jarlaxle stated, seeing the smile fade from his youngest lieutenant.  
  
"What does this have to do with me?" Tebryn asked, suddenly dreading the answer.  
  
"Malzorn was part of the scouting party."  
  
Tebryn gasped. "No!" He shouted. "You lie!"  
  
Jarlaxle shook his head. "I am not lying. I am sorry."  
  
Tebryn didn't know what to do. He was only in his early 60's, but had formed a strong friendship with the older drow who had just been killed.  
  
"How?" Tebryn whispered, barely able to get the word out.  
  
"I should not say. It was...not pleasant." Jarlaxle said slowly, trying to find the right words.  
  
The young male didn't ask again and Jarlaxle knew that it had more to do with the fact that Tebryn did not want to seem weak by crying.  
  
"You will not be seen weak in my eyes, Tebryn." He stated, doing what the younger drow had done to him so long ago and pulled him close.  
  
What was left of whatever it was that was holding back tears was gone and loud sobs were soon coming from the grieving drow. The wild anger that Jarlaxle himself had felt was not present and the leader of Bregan D'aerthe was grateful of that.  
  
It took a while for the tears to stop. Once they did, Tebryn pulled away from the now-sopping vest Jarlaxle was so fond of. "Sorry..."  
  
Jarlaxle gave the young male a sad smile. "Don't be." He placed a hand on his lieutenants shoulder. "My door is open to you if you ever want to talk." He stated, before getting up and moving to the door.  
  
"Wait! Why..." Tebryn started.  
  
"I might not have been so hospitable to you in my own grief. Let's just say this is to repay the favour of a little comfort during a very hard time."  
  
Tebryn nodded, wiped at his face and grimaced. "You were right. I do now understand."  
  
Jarlaxle smiled and nodded. "I could see the growing friendship between the two of you, even though he was centuries older. He thought of you as a son I think."  
  
Tebryn frowned. "That would explain a lot..." He shot a glance to Jarlaxle. "What about you and Zaknafein?"  
  
Jarlaxle started to stare off into space. "We started in Melee Magthere together and were friends since the first day there."  
  
Tebryn nodded, knowing that his friend of just thirty years would have been nothing compared to centuries of friendship. "It's worse than they think, isn't it?" He stated.  
  
Jarlaxle nodded. "Yes, it is. They do not understand. Just know that I do. Like I said before, you know where to find me if you want to talk."  
  
Tebryn nodded, grateful to the male he was ever loyal to. As he watched the mercenary leader disappear from his room, he had the feeling that he would take up the offer soon. But first, he needed to sleep, exhausted as he was.  
  
THE END 


End file.
